


Enhance and Abate

by WeCanDance



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Biochemistry, Blood, Dark, Expanding on characters, Family, Friendship, Gen, Gross violations of IACUC standards, Hurt/Comfort, Mad Science, Science, Unexplored potential of character personalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-09-01 05:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeCanDance/pseuds/WeCanDance
Summary: Flug is a genius. He must be. He can create anything with science, even a friend.And if he were to botch or delay an experiment, Black Hat would raise hell. Hurt him. No way could Flug defend himself, as much as he wanted to.No, the only things Flug could rely on was his beloved friend 505, and science. Could one of those protect him?





	1. Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!

The thick, black tendrils were tight against 505’s furry blue wrists. As they released, he slid to the floor and landed on his knees. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He tried to calm himself and looked across the room, where his father, too, was being released. The dark vines receded, slow and sinister, into their host. Flug panted and pressed his right palm into the ground, trying to get his footing to stand. But 505 kept kneeling, scanning the floor.

What 505 had just witnessed, he never wanted to see again. 

But was there anything he could do to stop it?

Was there anything  _ anyone _ could do?

505’s ears twitched as he heard the tapping of his boss’s heels across the linoleum floor to the exit. With Black Hat’s egress through the threshold to the hallway, it was as though the darkness left as well. Just when the door closed behind him, the morning’s first light trickled in through the open window. Lambent yellow rays reflected softly on beakers and flasks. 

Sunrise.

___________________________________________

It was about five hours before sunrise when Flug heard a frantic knock on the door. He jumped, nearly spilling his coffee, hair standing on end. His clipboard fell to the desk with a loud  _ clack! _ , and he spun around in his chair. 

He nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a blue ball of fur opening the door, then walking briskly towards him--but the sunken look on 505’s face and the shivering form made him even more nervous. 

“Five? What’s wrong?” the scientist asked, and stood. The animal got close and hugged him--too hard, as usual--but Flug let him. 

As the scientist looked over the bear’s shoulder, he saw the clock on the wall. Five should be in bed at this hour. Maybe he had been awoken? “Did you have a bad dream?” Flug asked as the embrace softened, but was maintained.

Five is silent for a moment, and sniffs. Communication wasn’t his strong suit.

“Let me get you something,” Flug suggested. The two separated, and Flug walked to a spare desk. The wooden top was covered with hearts and words, carved with Demencia’s switchblade. The scientist opened a drawer to reveal pages of printer paper and a set of 120 Crayola crayons.

“Do you want to draw it?”

The blue bear pulled out the office chair at the spare desk, sat down with the supplies, and started his sketch. Flug moved to his own desk where he had dropped his clipboard and turned it over, gazing casually at the handwritten data he had been entering into the computer. While waiting for 505 to finish the drawing, Flug returned to his thoughts about his powder experiment. 

The initiative to create pharmaceuticals was an exciting challenge for a genius like Flug, but he found that there were unforeseen barriers to his creation of new drugs. He was a mechanical inventor, after all, not an organic chemistry expert. Nor a biologist, and his experiments on lab mice weren’t going as quickly as he had hoped. He had no training in lab animal husbandry, and only minor experience. The scientist had no idea that the mouse models he was using would be so hard to get, and that so many different things he did would affect their performance. If a cage was too small, or if the mouse didn’t have others to socialize with, or if the animal became stressed from too much handling or injury, that could entirely change its output and even its reaction to the drugs. 

If only living things were more like machines. No one at BHO was very good at taking care of living things, except maybe 505.

_ At least I don’t have to run my experiments by an ethics committee,  _ Flug mused, as he put down the clipboard.  _ Villainy does have its perks.  _ With one hand, he lifted the bottom of his bag, and with the other, he lifted the coffee to his mouth, sipping it--then he spit it right back into the cup. He looked into the coffee cup, as though that would tell him why it tasted so bad. 

He thought about it for a moment. He had made the pot about 19 hours before--it was cold and stale. But it was also dark and bitter; he had completely forgotten to add cream and sugar. 

_ Idiot,  _ the scientist thought.  _ I’m supposed to be a genius. How can I create a series of powerful pharmaceuticals if I can’t even get the recipe to coffee right? _

Flug didn’t notice the bear standing and turning to him, as the coffee settled and he stared into his reflection. 

_ Did I make Black Hat’s coffee right when I made it this morning?  _ Flug thought.  _ What would he do to me if I didn’t? _

This time, the bear approached slowly enough that he didn’t startle his friend. He intentionally stepped a little harder so his claws would clack on the linoleum floor, so Flug could hear him coming. He slowly reached his paw to the scientist’s shoulder until their eyes met. Then the bear handed over the crayon drawing he had completed.

Flug put the coffee back on the desk and took the paper in one hand, adjusting his goggles with the other. He looked down to see a drawing of a skinny man in jeans and a blue shirt with a yellow-and-white design on it. He cupped his free hand and put it to his mouth, trying to understand.

Why did this drawing look just like Flug--without his bag? How--how did 505  _ know _ what Flug’s face looked like? The figure was simple enough, but the bear did get the hair, shape, and scars correct. Maybe it was a good guess.

It didn’t look exactly like him though--the drawing was of a severely injured man. That made it all the more creepy. The cartoon had comical sad eyebrows, three red claw marks on its forehead, nose, and chin, a bruised eye, and red covering its left side. Its right hand was perpendicular to its arm, as though its wrist had been snapped the wrong way. 

Flug studied the bizarre image until he heard the bear whimpering. Flug looked up to see tears in the eyes of his friend. The scientist put down the paper and took 505’s paw, stroking it. 

“It’s OK, Sonny. Is this what you saw in your dream? Don’t worry, it’s not real. It’s just a nightmare,” he comforted.

“This would never really happen.”


	2. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flug shows 505 his pharmaceutical research, demonstrating the power of science.

There were only two things that were always there for Flug: 505 and science. With the bear in need of comfort himself, Flug turned to science. 

“Would you like to see what I’m working on?” Flug asked, hoping to get the bear’s mind off of his dream.

Five nodded gently and shrugged. Flug turned to a door in the lab, put in a code to a keypad, and led 505 into a small hallway. At the end of the hallway was a second door, and through that was the testing room.

After closing both doors behind them, the scientist excitedly pointed to a set of of dozens of cages, each marked with colored bands. The bands, he explained, represented various characteristics of the mice inside, with a legend hanging in a corner. 

“This is an incredible project,” Flug said, flattering himself. “The columns, which are vertical--up and down--each contain a different type of mouse. The rows--side to side--correspond to what type of drug they’ve taken.

“There are five types of mice. One control, meaning a normal mouse, and four others that I had created especially for this experiment. Do they look familiar to you?”

505 scanned the columns. He noticed some mice were black, biting at the bars with preternaturally sharp teeth, with red eyes. Other mice were white, brown, or green. His eyes stopped at the last column of mice, and he pointed at them, smiling. 

“Yes! Those mice are just like you!” Flug pressed his palms together proudly. “The breeder altered the same chromosomes in those mice as the ones I altered in you, so they have the same mutation! They’re like your cousins.”

Five fixated on one mouse in particular, which, like the others in the column, was blue and had a row of yellow flowers down its back. 

“Ah yes, that one had the green powder. You see, I’m testing different drugs, and each row has mice who have been given a different drug. They’re color-coded, too--the top row is marked with green bands, as those subjects were given a green powder, which is supposed to make them stronger. Then the animals in the red-marked row were given red powder, which makes them weaker. Then there’s orange, which makes them forget, and white, which is the control. That means they only got pretend drugs.”

505 didn’t look like he quite understood, and the scientist noticed that his creation didn’t ask about the row of cages marked with purple bands. 

“Would you like to hold that one?” Flug asked, when he saw that the bear was still fixated on the blue mouse. 

505 quickly nodded, and Flug pulled keys from his pocket. “Just don’t drop it, you don't want anything on these drugs running around outside of a controlled environment...”

The bear nodded and watched intently as the mouse skittered up his arm. He put his paw in front of the mouse so that it would stop at his shoulder and climb his other arm, and then switch. 

“That mouse has been enhanced with the green powder, so it should be extra strong. You wouldn’t want to hold the black mice with the green drug. But those are nice. Look at this.”

The scientist opened a draw to reveal metal containers about half the size of a deck of cards. He picked one up and shook it, causing the mouse to look over at him. 

“I filled these containers with peanuts and welded them shut. They are heavy and no normal mouse could get into them. But the enhanced mice…”

Flug put the container into the bear’s palm in front of the inquisitive mouse. In less than two seconds, the tiny animal had broken into the container with its teeth. It tore a hole big enough to get into the peanuts and picked them up in its tiny hands, munching on them happily. Beneath the bag, Flug smiled proudly. 

The bear was engaged as well, smiling down at the creature until Flug returned it to its cage. But then, the bear’s attention was drawn to another cage, and he squinted at a black mouse lying in the corner. 

Flug narrowed his eyes curiously. That’s the third day in a row that the mouse had apparently not moved. It’s possible that the subject was trying to trick him--there’s no telling what these creatures were capable of--but this one was starting to smell. 

“Stand back,” the scientist instructed. Carefully, he took a pencil and poked through the bars to touch the black ball of fur. No response. He unlocked the cage slowly, trying to anticipate the animal jumping at him. 

The cage door slid open. Nothing. Flug slowly reached in and scooped up the mouse. He could immediately feel it was cold and stiff in his hand. When he inspected it more carefully, he even saw it was bloated and had white fly eggs around its mouth and eyes.

Dead. Definitely. Who knew the red “abatement” drug could kill its subjects?

More importantly, who knew that this strain of mice  _ could be killed?  _ Or even affected by a simple chemical formula? Black Hat had specifically offered some of his own DNA--which Flug didn’t even know he had--to send to the mouse breeder to create this strain of mice. They were almost like his offspring, just as irritable and unsociable. He thought they would be nearly impossible to kill.

_ . _ He was wrong.

Flug turned the carcass over in his hands re-confirming that it was most certainly not coming back. 

The scientist was glad that the bear couldn’t see his face when, beneath the bag, he smiled. 


	3. Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 505 volunteers to help with the experiment.

Flug was an intelligent man, but he was nowhere near prescient enough to know that the simple act of looking at a clock would trigger him to making one of the most irresponsible decisions of his life. 

His gaze traveled to the clock, which read 3:17. Four hours before sunrise. 

Four hours until his boss came in, demanding progress beyond what Flug had to show. He was supposed to have moved on to humans and anthropomorphic creatures for his drug trials, and he was still finishing with the mice. And he had the audacity to stop working and comfort the bear!

Flug knew what would happen if he wasn’t where he was supposed to be in the experiment. Black Hat would not be happy. 

And when Black Hat isn't happy, Flug isn't happy. 

505, walking behind Flug, closed the second door behind him after they exited the animal testing room. The bear noticed his friend had stopped, paralyzed, in front of the clock. 505 nudged his shoulder, causing Flug to jump and turn around.

“Five!” He panted, clutching his chest. 

He paused for several moments, catching his breath. As he stared at the animal’s concerned face, he thought of an idea.

The bear.

The drugs.

The next phase in the clinical trial.

Maybe 505 could help…? 

“Amigo," the scientist suggested, rubbing the knuckles one gloved hand with the other. "The green powder never hurt any of the mice. It made them better. Stronger. Would you be willing...?" The bear raised an eyebrow.

“I’d just have to measure out a dose for you based on your weight...would you help me test the medicine?”

There were only two things that Flug could always count on: science and 505. So of course the reliable bear agreed. 

___________________________________________________

It was 45 minutes before sunrise, and all was dark, cool, and quiet in the lab. The only sounds were those of miscellaneous machinery and the scientist’s soft snooze.

The pair had waited deep into the night, carefully monitoring 505 and any effects that he might feel from the drug.

To Flug's dismay, and, simultaneously, relief, nothing happened. The bear didn't perform any better in tests of strength or speed. He didn't behave differently in the presence of different stimuli. It seemed as though the test was a failure.

Flug took off his shoes, jacket, and gloves, and the two of them sat together on a soft burgundy couch in the corner of the lab to pass the time. The scientist turned the TV to cartoons and watched the colorful characters dance around the screen. It's funny, he thought, how at the end of every cartoon episode, things just go back to the way they were. 

That's not how it is in real life. Things change for good.

Flug leaned heavily on the bear, closing his eyes, feeling the warmth of the soft blue fur seep into his own body. He was only going to close his eyes for a moment...think about how to improve the experiment...but as his heartbeat slowed and his breath evened out 505 had eased out from under his friend to give him more room, and made a quiet egress. Flug did not hear him leave. But, only five minutes later, he heard someone enter. 


	4. Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat finds Flug sleeping, and isn't happy about it. Neither is Flug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: graphic violence
> 
> Also: "M'aidez" in French is "Help Me;" said out loud it's "May Day," which is what pilots say when their plane is crashing. And that's where that comes from.

It started with only a whisper. Soft, textured like fur. A cold breeze in his ear, disembodied and floating in front of the waking scientist. 

Perhaps it was only his anxiety making him hear things. Besides, there was no one in front of him who could be speaking. 

No one he could see, anyway. In the darkness of the lab.

Flug closed his eyes. He probably had plenty more time to sleep before the sun rose. 

The chill grew, and he grabbed for the lab coat that was draped over him like a blanket. Then he felt a light pressure on his neck, growing harder until he sat up in a rush, throwing his legs so he was sitting forward on the couch, gasping, and clawing at his throat. 

The pressure released and Flug took a deep, shaky breath, while rubbing his neck and looking up. Floating five feet above his head was a flashing grin of sharp, white teeth and a single yellow cat eye. 

“Good morning, Doctor,” Black Hat growled as his silhouette took shape in the darkness. “Resting, are we?” 

“Morning…?” Flug whispered. “It’s not morning yet…”

Black Hat snarled. “If you’re relaxing, the project must be complete.” 

Flug wrung his palms together.

"They...My newest batch seems to be successful in mice models,” he started. “And I’ve only tested it in one semi-human subject.” 

“And it worked?”

“N-not yet.”

Black Hat’s eye turned red, and he reached down with his claws to grab the front of Flug’s T-shirt. 

“And here you are _ resting??” _he demanded, lifting Flug from the couch by the shirt. The scientist’s legs instinctively started kicking out as his hands latched onto Black Hat’s arms for balance. 

“It--it was an accident! I’ll get right back on it! I still have time!” Flug begged. 

The boss tossed his victim unceremoniously on the hard lab floor, and he landed on his backside and elbows with a grunt. 

“You’ll regret if you don’t make progress faster,” Black warned as he floated towards his target. “You should be done by now, but what should I have expected from someone who has never been adequate?” 

The scientist sat up to face his boss, trying to maintain his dignity while not getting himself killed. Luckily, Black Hat had no way of knowing that, under the mask, Flug wore a defiant expression. 

“Yes, Lord Black Hat,” Flug said, ensuring that his inflection was submissive, unlike the snarl he was hiding. 

Inside, the scientist was seething. How _ dare _ the demon say something like that? After all Flug had _ done _ for him? 

But, Black Hat was not satisfied, and continued berating. “You’ve never been a success, and never will amount to anything.You _ deserved _ everything your family did to you!” 

“Yes, Lord Black Hat,” he repeated, voice flatter. 

But that didn’t appease the demon. 

Suddenly, Flug found himself exposed, cool air on his face. Before he knew it, the bag and goggles had been torn from his head, thrown to the floor. He was now face-to-face with his red-eyed master, smoke escaping from the sides of Black Hat’s mouth. 

Part of Flug’s mind knew that he should cower and beg. But that never got him anywhere before. Frankly, he felt as though he had run out of fear and submissiveness. And, lately, he had begun to fantasize about standing up for himself. This time, the fantasy took over, and he snapped. 

“HEY!” He yelled as he watched the bag fly across the room. “You can’t DO that!” 

Black Hat swelled to twice his size and grabbed Flug’s throat for a second time, squeezing hard enough to bruise. 

“You do NOT tell me what to do!” The monster growled, deeply and loudly. Then he raised a claw and, without hesitation, swiped it across Flug’s face. The scientist felt the wet stream of blood flowing down his head, cheek, and neck before he felt the burn of the slashes. But his concentration was on trying to breathe. 

There was a loud, wet snap as Black Hat’s tentacles rapidly appeared from behind his back. The tendrils wrapped around Flug’s wrists and ankles and slammed him against the ground. 

“Get off of me!” he yelled, adrenaline-fueled, while arching his back and thrashing in an ill-fated attempt to escape. 

“Again, you think you can direct me!” Black Hat roared, green slime dripping from his teeth. His face was contorted with his brow low and teeth bared in livid energy. “If you had any brains in your head, you would simply obey. You’re not a genius at all, just an idiot!”

Black Hat raised his fists and enlarged them, growing sharp crystals on the knuckles and darkening the room. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw his victim’s pupils shrink and felt him tense. 

Yet, still no sniveling or begging. So the demon brought his fists down to the restrained man, landing squarely on his chest. 

Flug made a sharp grunt as something inside him snapped. This time, it was a bone.

“Had enough?”

The scientist simply gritted his teeth. 

Black Hat reached one hand to the scientist’s chin, and held his face. The other hand traveled under the blue shirt, pulling the bottom up to expose the scientist’s chest. The dark creature caressed the ridges of the left side of Flug’s chest, then, slowly, extended his nails. 

Sharp as knives and hard as diamonds, the claws began to penetrate the soft, pale flesh. Past the first layer of skin, and Flug bit his lip and closed his eyes. As the claws slid into the muscle, the first tear fell down the side of Flug’s face. Some claws pressed through the space between his ribs, and one pressed at the bone itself. 

Flug’s breath shook. Black Hat took his hand off Flug’s chin and moved it to his forearm. As he held the arm in place, Black Hat’s tendril grasped the scientist’s hand and started to twist. 

Flug held his breath as the tendons in his hand and wrist began to stretch. The pressure increased, and he knew he was about to snap. 

Finally, he called out--but not to Black Hat. To anyone _ but _ Black Hat. Instead of asking Jefe to stop--what good would that do?--he asked for help. 

“Help!” He screeched, to no one in particular. To the world. To anyone and everyone. _ Someone _ had to know. Someone had to _ care. _

Black Hat sank his claws in and dragged his hand across the man’s chest, slowly, opening a deep and long wound. 

“Please, oh god! Help me!” He yelled, as though there was nothing at all to say to the being towering over him. His cries were so loud that Black Hat would have covered his ears, if he had any. So much volume coming from such a small, fragile chest…  
  
“¡Ayúdeme! M'aidez!” he shouted one more time as the bone in his forearm cracked beneath the weight and twisting. 

It may have been pointless and pitiful, but his body ached to communicate his pain. And Flug couldn’t handle this by himself anymore...he wanted someone on his side...someone he could count on. 

Suddenly, his ears rang with a deep and thunderous roar, nearly as loud as his own screams. The vibrations of the sound reverberated in his sternum, like the bassline of a song at a concert. It was odd, as he had never heard Black Hat make those sounds before. Flug looked up to see a puzzled look on the demon’s face. 

The roar, which still hung in the air, was followed by quick steps.

Flug was puzzled to see Black turn his head. It seemed the roar hadn’t come from the demon at all, but from behind him.


	5. Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More violence!
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts!

Black Hat turned to face the perplexing sight entering through the doorway. In the darkness, two green eyes glowed maniacally from a dark, hairy mass.

The vision was alarming, but it was the sound that truly overwhelmed the room. A roar, like a rumbling storm, with the pounding of a deep drum and a desperate shriek. The roar caused Black Hat to turn around, perplexed, staring into the green eyes for only a moment before the mass lunged at him, mouth open wide and salivating. 

The demon could hardly reconcile when he recognized the beast from its blue fur, yet the nature of the familiar-looking animal had changed. The bear latched onto Black Hat’s shoulder with bone-crushing jaws, then pulled away with a mass of black flesh in its maw. 

Black Hat grasped at his damaged shoulder. Explanations fired rapidly in his brain. Could this be someone else disguised as the bear? Could he be possessed? Would it be worth it to kill him, here and now? 

The demon cursed himself as the bear swatted him in the face, nearly knocking his head off and launching him across the room. 505 dropped to all fours, and sprinted towards his boss. 

This time, Black Hat had the presence of mind to anticipate the attack, and lashed out with his tendrils. They wrapped around all four of 505’s feet, making the beast crash to the ground. 

Black stood up quickly, but not before the bear wriggled one of his paws from its binds. He grabbed a tendril and brought it to his mouth, still crimson with Black Hat’s blood, and bit into it. Black Hat snarled like an angry fox and withdrew his tendrils. 

It was some kind of miracle that the  _ bear _ , of all of his employees, would attack him. 505 was so innocent and pacifistic. Of course, that’s what made the violence successful for a moment; the fact that it was so perplexing to Black Hat that he was blindsided. 

Only a moment, though. The dumb animal would only have the upper hand for a moment. 

As the cerulean creature regained his footing, Black Hat stood over him, stretching and growing. Black Hat’s teeth elongated and his hands and claws grew. He crouched so as to not hit his head on the ceiling, and his wounds, as well as his torn clothing, repaired themselves in just a few moments. 

“Oh, Bear…” he cooed condescendingly. Yet, the creature simply snarled and squared his shoulders, ready to fight on. 

Black Hat reached down and grabbed 505 by the fur on his chest and pushed him against the wall. 505 responded with a feral grunt, kicking the demon, hard, in the stomach. But, it wasn’t hard enough, as Black regained enough composure to stand dominant and unflinching at the thrashing animal. 

“You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life,” Black Hat growled, grinning impossibly wide and flashing his multiplying teeth. 

“And the last.” 

There was a wet sound as tendrils manifested behind the demon, and with his enormous hands, he pressed on the snarling creature’s neck. The tendrils morphed into sharpened blades, reflecting only a sparkle of green light. 

“Should I cut off your arms first? Or go straight to your head?” Black Hat threatened, drooling a supernatural green slime. 

The demon raised his sharpened knife-tendrils into the air above the bear, flexing to strike. 

Then, he heard a soft “pew” and felt burning on his upper-back. Then, another on his lower back, and two more. He snarled and turned his head, but didn’t release his victim. Instead, he manifested binds from the wall to take the bear by the wrists, ankles and waist to bind him tightly to the wall. 

But, what had happened behind the demon that was burning him? He turned completely to see another shock. Flug was standing, bleeding down half his body, crouching and cradling one arm against his stomach. The other arm held up a ray gun, pointed at Black Hat and smoking. 

“Don’t hurt him, Jefe!” the scientist yelled, and suddenly Black Hat was very weary of these inferior beings trying to stand up to him. 

“It’s...it’s not his fault,” Flug continued, and lowered the gun. “It’s my fault...he doesn’t mean it. I g-gave him the drug, I didn’t realize it would change him…he sh-should come down from it soon, just d-don’t kill him.”

Black Hat closed his mouth and smiled, then folded an arm in front of him, resting the other on top and tapping his chin. 

“I see. And, I’m supposed to just forgive this show of betrayal?” 

“Please, Black Hat. I was just trying to get the project moving along. I didn’t m-mean for him to get in your w-way.” 

“Both of you attacked me tonight. There is no way I’ll be leaving without some blood in my teeth.” 

Flug looked at the floor and carefully placed the gun on a nearby stool. “You came in to h-hurt me,” he said quietly. “You can f--you won’t kill him, right? If you f-f-finish beating m-me.” 

Black Hat barked a laugh. “You’re offering? It’s not as though I need you to.” 

“I won’t resist.” 

“I like it better when you do.”

“...what do you want?”

Black Hat floated closer to Flug and looked him in the eyes. Half of the scientist’s face was red with blood, and his wounds were dark and gaping. The demon’s injuries, by contrast, were already healed. Black placed his hands firmly on the doctor’s shoulders, shrinking back down to a relatively normal form. 

“I will hurt you,” Black purred. “And I’ll spare him.” Tendrils gently wound upwards towards Flug, wrapping around his limbs and caressing his face. Hearing a snort from the bear still confined to the wall, Black Hat sent another tentacle to wrap around 505’s muzzle, silencing him. 

“But,” the demon continued. “The bear will watch.”


	6. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 505 makes it better by putting the "comfort" in "hurt/comfort." 
> 
> But only Flug can make it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading folks! Don't forget to send a comment, tell me what you think!

It hurt, being dropped to the ground, but Flug was relieved. The sharp-toothed grin he saw on his boss’s face no longer communicated a sinister desire or cruel laughter, but satisfaction. 

As his final gesture, Black Hat reached down and lifted Flug’s chin. “I hope you’ve learned something this evening,” he cooed. Then, the demon turned and left the room. 

Flug was tempted to lay down then and there, and pass out. The loss of blood left him nauseous, a little sweaty, and disoriented. But he knew it would be a bad idea; he should stop the bleeding before he got worse. Plus, 505 was right there across the room, and he didn’t want to worry the bear. 

Instead, the scientist thought about the different parts of his body to take stock of what was injured. Both sides of his face...he must look awful. Where was his bag? His neck. He could feel his chest and abdomen were bruised, and the side of his ribs were cut bad. Breathing hurt. One of his knees had been kicked, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stand or walk on it yet. He put his hands on the ground, but quickly realized that his left wrist was entirely out of commission. 

Flug looked across the room tentatively. 505, head down, ears back, flower closed, seemed dejected. So, Flug waited for him to be ready. He could always count on the bear. 

It was five minutes later that 505 got up and approached Flug, offering him a paw. The scientist reached for it, then winced and curled his arms to his chest. Wordlessly, 505 moved beside him and helped pick him up by the torso. They walked to the connected bathroom together in silence. 

Flug sat on the edge of the bathtub while the bear ran warm water over a hand towel. Flug took it graciously and started wiping the blood from his face, wincing. He patted his ribcage, but it was too tender to wipe the new and dried blood off completely. 505 approached slowly, reaching for the shirt’s bottom and maintaining eye contact so his friend could see what he was doing and could protest if he wanted to. The bear pulled the remains of the torn shirt off of Flug, who looked away. The man was a mess, he knew it. He didn’t even want to look in the mirror to confirm it. 

505 sighed but didn’t say anything. Instead, he got a sterile needle and medical thread. He sat on the toilet seat in front of Flug. The scientist saw the needle and took a shaky breath, then closed his eyes and nodded. He clenched his fists, screwed his eyes shut, and kept as still as he could as the bear sewed up the slashes on his face and ribs. 

Flug didn’t enjoy getting his wounds stitched up, and actually screamed when the bear pulled his broken wrist to set it. As the adrenaline from the attack wore off, Flug fell deeper into physical pain. Even as anti-bacterial cream was spread on him, as the splint was set on his arm, and as the last roll of bandages wrapped around his torso, he just barely kept a few tears from falling. The only words were the occasional muttered “thank you’s” and yelps. A deeper conversation about what had just happened would have to wait.

As painful as it was, Flug knew that the treatment would ultimately make him feel better. The bear could always make it better, he thought. 

But he could never make it  _ right. _

505 left to get Flug a new bag and shirt, as the ones he had been wearing were destroyed. As Flug waited, he leaned on the sink and looked in the mirror, watching himself. Judging. 

This is why he had to wear the mask. He continued to stare, not turning away until the bear returned and helped him get dressed. Suddenly the cartoon plane on the T-shirt seemed a bit juvenile for him to wear, considering what he did and who he was. Sooner or later he’d have to change. 

____________________________________________

They returned to the lab to see that a rich amber light had flooded the room. The morning was still crisp, however, and Flug walked carefully to the couch to retrieve his lab coat. The bear followed and helped him put it on.

Immediately, Flug felt his phone in his pocket vibrate. He pulled it out, looked at his texts, and gulped. 

“Hrm?” 505 asked. 

“It’s...him.” 

505 looked at his friend cautiously and waited for him to explain further. 

“He wants me to…” Beneath the bag, Flug gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. “Like nothing happened...he...as though I’m supposed to just…” He put the phone back in his pocket and looked pointedly up at the bear. 

Gesturing with his good hand, the scientist finished. “He just asked me to bring him his  _ damn coffee.” _

505 made a raised his eyebrows sympathetically, and watched as Flug tried to pace. But it was a sorry sight for someone limping.

“The nerve, the, the  _ asshole… _ ” he muttered. “If I can’t do anything  _ right, _ like he  _ says, _ why does he need me to do  _ everything?”  _ The scientist stopped at the window and angrily pushed it open with his one good hand and a grunt. 

“Everything!” He continued his rant. “What good is he? I ought to...if I could I would...” he spat, and made a half turn to face the bear. 

“I could…” he repeated and thought carefully. 505 seemed very confused. No one could see, but the scientist grew a slow, sinister smirk under his mask. 

Flug stood up straight. The wind blew in through the window enough to send gentle waves across his bag, and the tails of his lab coat billowed behind him. 

“He thinks I can’t do anything I intend to do...and he needs me to make his...his coffee...” Flug’s voice trailed off, and at just that moment, he turned his head just a few degrees, and the angle brought the red light of sunrise to bounce off his goggles. He looked at the bear in silence, secretly grinning. His gaze was shining with crimson morning light and budding determination. 

The doctor strode to a desk drawer and reached in, leaving the bear in confusing silence. "It was stupid of me to try to fight him hand-to-hand," he lamented. "I don't know how to fight one-on-one. I only know science. Only _science_." He pulled out a lidded glass tube--even larger than the green one he had used to dose the bear. This one was full of red powder. The drug that harmed, and even killed, the test subjects.

505 squeaked and tilted his head in question.

“What am I going to do, you ask?” Flug anticipated the general intention of 505’s noise, and the blue animal nodded. 

“What I’m going to do,” he said, lowly, “is make Black Hat’s coffee.” He held the tube up to the window and rotated it, watching the sun sparkle as it filtered through the granules. 

“But this time--” he dropped the tube casually into his coat pocket and turns toward the door-- “This time, I’ll make it right.” 


End file.
